


Saving Grace

by cobalt_wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Episode: s09e21 King of the Damned, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalt_wings/pseuds/cobalt_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's Grace is burning out, and Dean is losing himself to the siren song of the Mark of Cain. Can they save each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Draft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faeryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/gifts).



> This little one-shot fic is a result of a discussion I was having with Ehryn, after the most recent episode of Supernatural [9x21 King of the Damned]. We've learned that, as we suspected, there are consequences to stealing Grace. Cas' is burning out, and him along with it. We are also seeing Dean becoming increasingly more lost to the influence of the Mark of Cain and the First Blade.
> 
> What does this mean for the season finale? Will Cas be returned to human, when his Grace is gone? I personally don't think so, given how quickly they returned him to angelic status on the show. Is Dean still mortal, or will the Mark preserve him as it did Cain? Can Grace be used to counter the effects of the Mark?
> 
> Being a rabid Destiel fan, I know how I'd like to see the two main problems resolved. I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I gave in and wrote it down. I can't wait to see how they handle it on the show. I only pray they don't break my heart.

Dean cut down one opponent, then sank the Blade deep into the body of the next. Power sang through his veins as the Blade drank deep of blood and death. The flare of dying Grace faded away and he yanked the weapon free of the falling vessel. He nearly grinned at the expression on the next guy's face, when he effortlessly blocked the angel's sword; one smooth, easy move, and the man's head fell to the ground. Eagerly, he turned to face the next foe. He was cutting a bloody swath through Metatron's elite, and he _gloried_ in it.

Time lost its meaning. There was only the fight, the blood, and the Blade. Dean's body moved almost without his own volition, supernaturally graceful in its dance of death. The Blade rose and fell, cut and thrust, and the enemy was mown down like wheat. Dean had expected to tire, but his energy was unflagging, a vibrant darkness fueling his limbs. He was terrible and mighty, an unstoppable force, and oh, it was good. Nothing mattered, nothing existed but this, and he never wanted it to stop.

Finally though, there was only one man left before him. He swung, but for the first time did not make an easy kill. His opponent's move, irrationally undefensive, had thrown him off. The fighter had accepted the Blade into his body, accepting a near-fatal blow for the opportunity to close with Dean. Instead of pushing him away, Dean flipped the blade in his hand, prepared to drive it into the man's back. Before he could, a hard hand gripped his shoulder, another cupped his jaw, and Dean swayed as everything went white.

When the world came rushing back, Dean gasped like a man rescued from a near drowning. He was gazing into otherworldly blue eyes, and Dean gasped again, this time in horror as he realized the man before him was none other than Castiel. He jerked back, eyes flying to the wound in Cas' torso, the wound he'd dealt him. Oh god, he could see a bright line of Grace shining in its depths; Cas was really hurt.

'Fuck! Oh shit, Cas, I'm so sorry! I couldn't tell, I didn't know it was you, I'm... Tell me you can heal that!'

'It's okay, Dean. You can let go now.'

For a second Dean had no idea what he was talking about, then he realized he was still holding fast to the First Blade. His stomach turned as horror surged through him again, and he dropped the bloody thing. He became suddenly aware of other stuff, like the fact that he was splattered with gore, and that the angel war was over.

He took in the situation at a glance. There were a number of dazed-looking angels standing around, though many more were dead on the ground. Metatron was down, presumably dead, and Sam, Gadreel, and Crowley were chanting over the body, working to reverse the spell that kept the angels out of Heaven.

Yeah, Crowley had lied about the spell being irreversible; shocker. He'd kept the information to himself until Dean took out Abaddon, then offered it up as incentive to keep Dean from turning the Blade on him. Dean had told him where to stick it, and they'd done their damndest to figure it out for themselves. But the situation with Metatron had come to a head, and they'd been forced to deal with the infuriatingly smug demon. Crowley had wanted a free pass, Dean wanted to give him a week. They'd settled on the standard 10-year term, and Crowley agreed to stand in as the demon in the human/angel/demon triad needed for the spell casting. No, Dean had NOT kissed him to seal the deal.

Dean didn't care about any of that right now, though. The only thing that mattered was Cas being okay. And he wasn't, Dean could tell, even if he was keeping that deadpan expression firmly in place. He reached out to grasp the angel by the shoulders, 'Sit down before you fall down, Cas.' The wound wasn't healing, if anything, it was gaping wider than before. 'Actually, you should probably lie down.'

Castiel shook his head, and capturing Dean's gaze once more, he spoke with great urgency. 'Listen to me, Dean. You were nearly lost to the power of the Mark, and it will reassert itself shortly. You need to stay away from the Blade, as far as possible, and you must be cleansed daily until its influence fades. Speak with Gadreel, he can arrange for you to be visited by angels for this task, as often as needed.'

'Why can't you do it? You can come back with us now, stay with us.'

Sorrow clouded the clear blue of the angel's eyes. 'I'm sorry, Dean.'

Fear bit deep into Dean's guts, 'No, of course, you need your Grace to heal yourself. That's fine, save your strength, we'll get some of your buddies to drop by, like you said.'

'I can't come back with you, Dean. My time is nearly up.'

'What does that mean? What time?'

'My Grace is stolen, and thus, finite. It has been slowly burning out, and when it does, I will go too.'

Cas was dying? Had been dying, all this time? And he'd just drained his Grace to the dregs, just to pull Dean back from the brink of madness? A madness he'd willingly embraced? Dean suddenly loathed himself with such intensity he was nearly sick. He grasped desperately for a straw of hope, 'If you lose your Grace, won't you just be human again?'

'Having to adapt to a Grace whose resonance does not match my own has damaged my vessel, on a genetic level. I can no longer survive as a human.' The shoulders under Dean's hands, always so strong, slumped just a little.

That small, telling sign of weakness sent Dean's fear rocketing into the stratosphere. His eyes shot back to where Gracelight still shone from the deep gash in Cas' side. Had it dimmed? Oh crap, did it just _flicker?_ Was his best friend in the world about to wink out, like a snuffed candle? 'Fuck, we've got to get you a power-up, like right now! Can another angel boost your Grace?'

'No, Dean. I've made my peace. Please don't make this harder than it already is.'

'I don't, I can't, just...!' Dean's mind scrabbled in panic, desperate for a solution. 'Wait, wait! There's a way, you did it before! Bobby told us, how you touched his soul to restore your Grace, so you could pull us back when we time-traveled to the Old West. Do that again, use me!'

Castiel frowned at him thoughtfully, then regretfully shook his head. 'It would be a temporary fix at best, and very dangerous for you. It isn't worth the risk, to buy me only a little more time.'

'Maybe in that time we can figure something else out! I don't care about the risk, just do it Cas, dammit.'

'I really don't think...'

'Don't think, we haven't got time for that. Can't you, like, stay tapped in? Keep using my soul as a steady power source? Souls are like nuclear power plants for you guys, right?' Now Cas' eyes widened, and Dean dared to hope.

'You are speaking of a soul bond. That... could work. It is an extreme solution though, Dean. It is not something that can be undone. We would be bound together for eternity.'

His heart leapt with joy, then started pounding in his chest as he nearly choked on the hope rising high within him. 'Yes! That's fine, I'm fine with that. Just don't die on me, Cas. Come on, do it now, while you still can.'

'Are you _sure,_ Dean?'

Dean tore at his bloodied clothes, baring his chest. He grabbed Castiel's right hand, and held it to him, flat over his sternum. 'I have never been more sure of anything in my life, okay? Now will you please get on with it?'

Cas' mouth quirked in a little smile, 'As you wish.' Then he sobered again, looking up at Dean apologetically. 'I'm sorry, Dean. This will hurt.'

Dean nodded, and braced himself. Cas stiffened his hand, then pressed it slowly forward, into his flesh. Light flared around the intruding hand, but Dean didn't see. His eyes were screwed shut, teeth clenched as he attempted to hold in an agonized scream. Cas pushed further in, and Dean lost the battle. He curled around the impaling limb, convulsed in agony, scream after scream tearing its way from his throat.

For a terrible, timeless period, all Dean could register was the white-hot torment. Then, deep inside, something else touched him. It brushed up against him tentatively, as though unsure of its welcome. It felt familiar though, and where it touched him the pain eased, soothed away. The relief was exquisite, and Dean reached eagerly toward it, wanting to immerse himself in its cool embrace.

A connection flared to life, and Dean realized that it was Cas he was feeling, his Grace, his soul? Did he still have his soul, from his time as a human? Whatever it was, it held the essence of Castiel. He was suddenly entirely aware of the angel, was able to feel everything he was feeling, even get glimpses of what he was thinking. Fascinated, he examined the emotions running rampant in Cas, shocked at the intensity hidden beneath the man's mild exterior.

Castiel was awash with remorse, hating that he had to hurt Dean to save his own life. He was also jubilant, thrilled beyond measure to be so close to Dean again, in a way he hadn't been since he'd cradled Dean's soul close as he flew them both out of Hell. He was pleased and proud too, and when Dean questioned that, the answer came to him immediately. Castiel was going to be able to help Dean again, regularly feeding Grace through their bond to keep the Mark of Cain subdued.

Dean was humbled. Castiel had been on the brink of death, but his every thought seemed to be about helping him. Dean would have drowned in his own unworthiness, but for the thought that he was saving Cas' life in return. He felt his love for Castiel swell, and tried to push it toward him, hoping he was doing the right thing to help restore Cas' depleted Grace.

Everything in Castiel stilled, and Dean almost panicked, fearing something had gone wrong. But then wild emotion burst through Castiel, joy and incredulity and a burgeoning love for Dean. An answering joy bloomed in Dean, until he felt like he was smiling with his whole being. Experimentally, he threw warmth and affection back toward Cas, the emotions he'd experienced on the few occasions where Castiel had enveloped him in a hug.

Castiel responded with even deeper devotion, tinged with something else, something that lit Dean up with a different kind of heat. Oh. _Oh._ Dean reeled with the revelation. That was lust. Castiel _lusted_ for him. How the hell had he missed that? And, he realized, how _awesome_ was that? Though he was pretty sure even his soul was blushing, he sent the feeling back toward Castiel.

Again, the burst of incredulity and joy. And then Dean could see again, and he found himself standing upright once more, gaze locked with Castiel's. Cas' eyes were wide and wet, his cheeks marked with the tracks of tears. 'Dean?', he breathed, his whole being a question.

Unable to help himself, Dean looked down, needing to see if Cas was still suffering the terrible wound he'd given him. He reached with shaking fingers through the torn clothing, and found the flesh beneath smooth and warm, whole once more. Dean trembled in relief, only now able to begin to forgive himself. He was still going to spend a ton of time making it up to his angel, though. In every way he could.

Castiel's hands gripped the tatters of Dean's shirt, then both of them were suddenly clothed in clean, restored clothing. The blood and gore were gone too, wiped away by a casual use of Grace. Beyond pleased at this evidence that Cas had it to spare, Dean grinned at him. Castiel was still staring at him though, still waiting, consumed by a single question.

'Yes, Cas.' Dean told him, his voice gruff with emotion. He ran his hands into that dark, perpetually mussed hair, and pulled Castiel's head toward him. His lips a whisper away from Cas', he told his angel what he most wanted to know. 'I love you.' Crossing that last divide, he sealed his lips to Castiel's, and gave him the first kiss of their eternity together.


	2. Revised Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revised and expanded version of Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically the same story, just modified to take into account the events of 9x22: Stairway to Heaven
> 
> I knocked this out pretty fast, so I borrowed some stuff from my other fic, and didn't try for brilliant resolution of plot or anything. Really, I'm just playing. :)

With a sense of profound satisfaction, Dean slashed at Gadreel, opening him up like a gutted fish. The angel stumbled back, Grace shining from the gaping wound. Dean moved to follow, to complete his kill, but found himself restrained. He snarled in fury, throwing the puny human male off without effort. But the other, the angel, clung to his back, impeding him.

He turned, raising the Blade against the new threat. His opponent made no effort to evade the blow, accepting a grievous wound in order to remain close to Dean. Changing tactics, Dean flipped the blade in his hand, prepared to drive it into the man's back. But before he made the thrust, a hard hand gripped his shoulder, another cupped his jaw, and Dean swayed as everything went white.

When the world came rushing back, Dean gasped like a man rescued from a near drowning. He was gazing into otherworldly blue eyes, and Dean gasped again, this time in horror as he realized the man before him was none other than Castiel. He jerked back, eyes flying to the wound in Cas' torso, the wound he'd dealt him. Oh god, he could see a bright line of Grace shining in its depths; Cas was really hurt.

'Fuck! Oh shit, Cas, I'm so sorry! I couldn't tell, I didn't know it was you, I'm... Tell me you can heal that!'

'It's okay, Dean. You can let go now.'

For a second Dean had no idea what he was talking about, then he realized he was still holding fast to the First Blade. His stomach turned as horror surged through him again, and he dropped the horrid thing. He remembered attacking Gadreel too, and looked over to see Sam kneeling over him, trying to perform first aid.

Dean didn't give a crap if Gadreel lived or died, though. The only thing that mattered was Cas being okay. And he wasn't, Dean could tell, even if he was keeping that deadpan expression firmly in place. He reached out to grasp the angel by the shoulders, 'Sit down before you fall down, Cas.' The wound wasn't healing, if anything, it was gaping wider than before. 'Actually, you should probably lie down.'

Castiel shook his head, and capturing Dean's gaze once more, he spoke with great urgency. 'Listen to me, Dean. You were nearly lost to the power of the Mark, and it will reassert itself shortly. You need to stay away from the Blade, as far as possible, and you must be cleansed daily until its influence fades. I believe Gadreel will survive your attack. I only pray that he will be willing to help you.'

'Never mind that, Cas! How much of your Grace did you use up just now, getting me lucid? Do you have enough left to heal?'

Sorrow clouded the clear blue of the angel's eyes. 'I'm sorry, Dean.'

Fear bit deep into Dean's guts, 'Don't you do it, Cas. Don't you leave me!'

'I would like nothing more than to stay with you, Dean. But my time is nearly up.'

No, no, no! Cas couldn't die, especially not rescuing his sorry ass from a fate he'd willingly embraced. Dean suddenly loathed himself with such intensity he was nearly sick. He grasped desperately for a straw of hope, 'If you lose your Grace, won't you just be human again?'

'Having to adapt to a Grace whose resonance does not match my own has damaged my vessel, on a genetic level. I can no longer survive as a human.' The shoulders under Dean's hands, always so strong, slumped just a little.

That small, telling sign of weakness sent Dean's fear rocketing into the stratosphere. His eyes shot back to where Gracelight still shone from the deep gash in Cas' side. Had it dimmed? Oh crap, did it just _flicker?_ Was his best friend in the world about to wink out, like a snuffed candle? 'Fuck, we've got to get you a power-up, like right now! Can Gadreel boost your Grace?'

'No, Dean. I've made my peace. Please don't make this harder than it already is.'

'I don't, I can't, just...!' Dean's mind scrabbled in panic, desperate for a solution. 'Wait, wait! There's a way, you did it before! Bobby told us, how you touched his soul to restore your Grace, so you could pull us back when we time-traveled to the Old West. Do that again, use me!'

Castiel frowned at him thoughtfully, then regretfully shook his head. 'It would be a temporary fix at best, and very dangerous for you. It isn't worth the risk, to buy me only a little more time.'

'Maybe in that time we can figure something else out! I don't care about the risk, just do it Cas, dammit.'

'I really don't think...'

'Don't think, we haven't got time for that. Can't you, like, stay tapped in? Keep using my soul as a steady power source? Souls are like nuclear power plants for you guys, right?' Now Cas' eyes widened, and Dean dared to hope.

'You are speaking of a soul bond. That... could work. It is an extreme solution though, Dean. It is not something that can be undone. We would be bound together for eternity.'

His heart leapt with joy, then started pounding in his chest as he nearly choked on the hope rising high within him. 'Yes! That's fine, I'm fine with that. Just don't die on me, Cas. Come on, do it now, while you still can.'

'Are you _sure,_ Dean?'

Dean tore at his clothes, baring his chest. He grabbed Castiel's right hand, and held it to him, flat over his sternum. 'I have never been more sure of anything in my life, okay? Now will you please get on with it?'

Cas' mouth quirked in a little smile, 'As you wish.' Then he sobered again, looking up at Dean apologetically. 'I'm sorry, Dean. This will hurt.' As he spoke, he backed up, pulling Dean into the library with him, away from the others in the Map room. He wanted to be at least one room away from Sam especially, in case he lost control of his Grace. Or Dean exploded.

They stopped, and Dean braced himself, then nodded for Cas to proceed. Cas stiffened his hand, then pressed it slowly forward, into his flesh. Light flared around the intruding hand, but Dean didn't see. His eyes were screwed shut, teeth clenched as he attempted to hold in an agonized scream. Cas pushed further in, and Dean lost the battle. He curled around the impaling limb, convulsed in agony, scream after scream tearing its way from his throat.

For a terrible, timeless period, all Dean could register was the white-hot torment. Light poured through him, pushing back the darkness that shadowed his every cell. At long last, deep inside, something else touched him. It brushed up against him tentatively, as though unsure of its welcome. It felt familiar though, and where it touched him the pain eased, soothed away. The relief was exquisite, and Dean reached eagerly toward it, wanting to immerse himself in its cool embrace.

A connection flared to life, and Dean realized that it was Cas he was feeling, his Grace, his soul? Did he still have his soul, from his time as a human? Whatever it was, it held the essence of Castiel. He was suddenly entirely aware of the angel, was able to feel everything he was feeling, even get glimpses of what he was thinking. Fascinated, he examined the emotions running rampant in Cas, shocked at the intensity hidden beneath the man's mild exterior.

Castiel was awash with remorse, hating that he had to hurt Dean to save his own life. He was also jubilant, thrilled beyond measure to be so close to Dean again, in a way he hadn't been since he'd cradled Dean's soul close as he flew them both out of Hell. He was pleased and proud too, and when Dean questioned that, the answer came to him immediately. Castiel had been able to help Dean again, his Grace responsible for keeping a demonic influence at bay.

Dean was humbled. Castiel had been on the brink of death, but his every thought seemed to be about helping him. Dean would have drowned in his own unworthiness, but for the thought that he was saving Cas' life in return. He felt his love for Castiel swell, and tried to push it toward him, hoping he was doing the right thing to help restore Cas' depleted Grace.

Everything in Castiel stilled, and Dean almost panicked, fearing something had gone wrong. But then wild emotion burst through Castiel, joy and incredulity and a burgeoning love for Dean. An answering joy bloomed in Dean, until he felt like he was smiling with his whole being. Experimentally, he threw warmth and affection back toward Cas, the emotions he'd experienced on the few occasions where Castiel had enveloped him in a hug.

Castiel responded with even deeper devotion, tinged with something else, something that lit Dean up with a different kind of heat. Oh. _Oh._ Dean reeled with the revelation. That was lust. Castiel _lusted_ for him. How the hell had he missed that? And, he realized, how _awesome_ was that? Though he was pretty sure even his soul was blushing, he sent the feeling back toward Castiel.

Again, the burst of incredulity and joy. And then Dean could see again, and he found himself kneeling on the floor facing Castiel, gazing deeply into his eyes. Cas' eyes were wide and wet, his cheeks marked with the tracks of tears. 'Dean?', he breathed, his whole being a question.

Unable to look away, Dean reached with shaking fingers for Cas' side, needing to see if Cas was still suffering the terrible wound he'd given him. Finding the flesh smooth and warm, whole once more, Dean trembled in relief; only now able to begin to forgive himself. He was still going to spend a ton of time making it up to his angel, though. In every way he could.

Castiel gently took his hands and moved them back from his body. Dean glanced quickly down, in time to catch Cas cleaning and repairing his torn clothing with a casual use of Grace. Beyond pleased at this evidence that Cas had it to spare, Dean's eyes snapped back up as he grinned at him. Castiel was still staring at him though, still waiting, consumed by a single question.

'Yes, Cas.' Dean told him, his voice gruff with emotion. He ran his hands into that dark, perpetually mussed hair, and pulled Castiel's head toward him. His lips a whisper away from Cas', he told his angel what he most wanted to know. 'I love you.' Crossing that last divide, he sealed his lips to Castiel's, and gave him the first kiss of their eternity together.

A jubilant shout rang out in the next room, then, much closer to hand, a young voice exclaimed, 'I knew it! Also, ewww.'

* * *

Metatron stared down at the words he'd just typed, unable to believe he'd written them. No, no! This was not how the story was supposed to go! He was the almighty author, he was the one making the decisions. So, how the hell was it getting away from him?

He ripped the page free of the typewriter, and reread the incredible latest scene. How could that have happened, when he'd never even conceived of such a thing? It was like the characters were writing the story, and he was once more nothing but a scribe! Furious that he could not seem to escape his fate, he heaved his typewriter across the room and began to pace.

It should have been impossible to reverse that spell! He'd picked Castiel for it specifically, because he knew the idiot was in love with that pathetic human. The spell reversal required the original subject to regain Grace, and to claim a Nephilim as a mate. Even if Castiel's heart hadn't already been claimed, Metatron had made doubly sure that he'd never be able to fulfill that condition. That was the whole point of having Castiel kill the very last Nephilim, to get at her heart. No Nephilim, no mating, no problem. Right?

Castiel had been both clever and ruthless enough to reaquire Grace, but that hadn't been worrisome. It was burning out anyway, and would ultimately kill Castiel when it did. But then Cas' human, that thorn-in-everyone's-side, ultimate-spoke-in-the-wheels, _ruiner_ -of-the-best-laid-plans, that _meddler_ Dean Winchester had gotten that one bright idea to save his angel. And everything had begun to unravel from there...

Who'd have thought that a soul bond was something Dean would ever agree to, anyway? Metatron reviewed everything he knew about the character. The murdered mother, the rootless childhood under the influence of his mostly-absent but idolized father, his co-dependent/parental relationship with his brother, the cruelties of the Hunter lifestyle, his time in Hell and Purgatory, his crushing self-esteem issues... Dammit, none of it suggested that he'd turn out to be anything but a homophobic, commitment-phobic, alcoholic mess.

But this character had surprised him. Again. He'd flat-out refused to lose Castiel, and his will had prevailed. That Dean returned Castiel's love hadn't even occurred to Metatron. He'd thought he knew Dean, thought he'd never let himself be more than brotherly close to oh-so-male Castiel, so he'd paid too little attention. Focused on Castiel and his own grand plans, he'd dismissed Dean, relegating him to a puppet-role as the carrier of the Mark of Cain.

Again, WTF? That alone should have precluded any mating! Come on, what angel would bond with a demon? And Dean had been so far gone, he'd been more demon than human. Sure, that taint had been mostly purged by the influx of Grace, but as long as he bore the Mark, some of that darkness would remain; a stain upon his soul. Right now, Dean was utterly unique, something that had never before been seen: a human/angel/demon hybrid. But apparently the human/angel part had been enough to satisfy the spell's Nephilim requirement.

Metatron growled in frustration, and snatched up the nearby tablet. Finding the spell that let him rewrite reality to suit himself, he reviewed it carefully. A small notation leaped out at him, one he'd seen but hadn't thought anything of at the time, and he groaned aloud. This, then, this was the problem! 'A character cannot be made to do anything that he disagrees with on a fundamental level; free will prevails.'

Feeling suddenly defeated, Metatron dropped back into his desk chair. What was the point in even trying? God's rules were still in effect; his favorite creations, the humans, were still able to thumb their noses at the notion of heavenly control, and go right on doing things their own way. Hell, they'd even managed to corrupt some angels into going the free-will route, despite angels having been designed for blind obedience!

Metatron sighed, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. He had to face it. He could play at being God, but it just wasn't so. He was a pretender, a charlatan. Gadreel had seen it, finally. He'd defected, going over to Castiel's side even though Metatron had clearly been winning! Even though Metatron had been able to steal Castiel's little army right out from under him, leaving him to tuck tail and go back to being nothing more than the Winchester third wheel. Still Gadreel had chosen Castiel over him!

It wasn't to be tolerated. Metatron had immediately sat down and written his death scene. It had seemed so simple; Dean had every reason to hate Gadreel, and the Mark was driving him to kill. And like a good little attack dog, Dean had gone after Gadreel, and very nearly succeeded in killing him. But Castiel just had to intervene, doing the Winchester-style self-sacrifice thing, using nearly all of his remaining Grace to keep Dean off him.

That, of course, Castiel threatening to die on him, had been enough to trigger Dean's hail-Mary move. Which unraveled Metatron's beautiful spell, and reopened Heaven's Gates, and threw a gigantic monkey-wrench into all his lovely plans! Without the ability to control who could and could not access Heaven, without that to hold over their heads, how could he command the angelic host? Even now their wings were rapidly healing, they'd be flocking back to Heaven within hours.

He had to rewrite the story, change it so that it was back in his favor, but how? His plot was in shambles, his characters were taking control of their own fate, and he'd suddenly gained a true appreciation for the term writer's block. He needed time, dammit! Time to think, time to figure a way out of this mess.

But he couldn't do that here, it wasn't safe. Gadreel would bring Castiel, and his Blade-wielding lunatic of a mate, straight to this location. He wasn't worried about Gadreel or Castiel. After all, he had a whole army of angels on his side, what could they do? But not even a Knight of Hell had been able to stop Dean; he wasn't sure anything could, once he was set on a target.

No, it was best he retire to Heaven, immediately. The others could follow when their wings were healed enough to make the trip. He gathered up the tablets, trying to come up with a quick speech for the troops, to explain the sudden change in circumstances. He could pretend it was a magnanimous gesture on his part, a welcome back to the fold sort of thing, a planned part of the amnesty offer. Yes, that would work, now that they'd all come around to seeing things his way...

* * *

Startled, Dean broke away from Cas' lips, looking up to find Kevin smirking down at them. 'Kevin? What are you doing here, man? I thought you were sticking close to your mom?'

'Well, you start playing around with major mystical forces, practically on top of the spot I died, and I'm gonna get curious. Got sucked right back here, actually, no real choice in the matter.'

Dean didn't really hear him, because he'd looked back at Castiel, and there was now only one thing consuming his mind. 'Cas, holy shit! You have _wings!'_

Castiel's eyes had never turned from him, but he seemed to be focused on something just behind Dean. He had a beatific smile on his face. 'Dean, don't be alarmed. So have you.'

Dean surged to his feet, turning in place with his neck craned over his shoulder as he attempted to see his own back. Strong hands caught at his hips, holding him in place, and the wings he was trying to see automatically flared out to help him balance. Once he caught sight of them, it was just as automatic to curl them around, as far to the front as they could go. And that was pretty far, the fricken things were huge!

Slowly and reverently, Dean reached out to touch the golden brown, hawk-like feathers of the wing in front of him. He sucked in a shocked breath as he registered not only the stiff/soft/warm brush of feathers against his fingertips, but the sensation of ruffled feathers coming _through_ the wing. Suddenly, he could feel the wings as a whole, feel the feathers shift against one another and the slight pressure of the air against them as they moved. It was mind-blowing. _He had wings!_

Behind him, Castiel stood admiring Dean's new appendages, taking in their span and colors as Dean experimentally spread them wide. The wings held an entire range of browns, from a pale honey-golden color to a rich mahogany darkening to near black at the tips of the primaries. The darkest colors were along the outermost edges, the shades paling from the top ridge down. Dean turned to face him, and Castiel gasped to see a row of gorgeous green feathers accenting the underwing.

Still wide-eyed with astonishment, Dean stared back at Castiel, who lifted his own wings for his mate to admire. Castiel's were very dark, a deep shimmering black that seemed to hold a hint of darkest blue, when the light hit them just right. They reminded Dean of an obsidian knife he'd seen in some museum Sam dragged him too, once. The color was uniform except for the underwing, where a row of feathers were truly blue, the same cobalt color as Cas' eyes. Holy crap, Dean thought. _Pretty!_

And thanks to their new bond, Castiel picked up on everything Dean was feeling. He blushed, Dean thought that was adorable, and he blushed harder. They'd have stood there staring for God knows how long, except for Kevin's impatient clearing of his throat.

'You guys done preening yet? Cause I'd love an explanation, any old time now.'

'Dean?', Sam called from the other room. 'Gadreel's okay, what about you guys? Is it safe to come back in now? Did I hear Kevin?'

'Yeah, Sammy. Come on.' No sooner had he spoken than a flash of panic knifed through him. He glanced fearfully at Castiel, but before he could warn Sam off, Castiel had figured out what was worrying him, and spoke in reassurance.

'Don't worry, Dean. Sam cannot see your wings any more than he can see mine. They are a manifestation of Grace, but as they are slightly out of phase with the reality Sam is capable of perceiving, they cannot harm him.' Castiel reached through the bond and helped Dean to fold his wings comfortably against his back.

Relieved, Dean turned to face his brother, who was hurrying toward him. For a minute he thought he was going to be enveloped in a moose-hug, but Sam stopped himself just short of it.

'Are you okay, Dean?' He searched Dean's eyes, looking for evidence of the madness that had consumed Dean so recently.

'M'fine, Sam. Cas fixed it.'

Sam's inquiring gaze turned to Castiel, who didn't look any different to him than before. He was just as worried for his friend as he'd been for his brother. 'What about you, Cas? Did it work?'

'Yes, it was a success. Dean and I are bound together, which allows his soul to fuel my Grace. In turn, he has taken some of that Grace for his own, which will keep the Mark in abeyance.'

Sam breathed out in a giant whoosh of relief. 'That's fantastic. Hey, congrats you two.' He smirked at Dean. 'I guess that means you're angel-married now, huh?'

To Sam's considerable surprise, Dean wasn't at all fazed by that. He was a once in, all-in kind of guy. 'Yep, except not even death will us part. He's mine forever, ain't that right, Cas?' He winked at his angel, enjoying the renewed blush.

Feeling oddly gypped by the denial of his brotherly right to tease, Sam turned to the ghost they'd thought was no longer a resident of the bunker. 'Hey, Kevin. What are you doing here?'

Kevin rolled his eyes. 'Nice to see you too, Sam. How've you been? How about you answer my question first? What's _he_ doing here?' He glared at Gadreel, who'd followed Sam into the room then stood quietly looking on.

Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise, 'You can tell who he is?' Kevin had been killed by Sam, when Gadreel was using him as a vessel. Kevin had never seen the man Gadreel was wearing now.

'Yeah, I can recognize my murderer,' Kevin growled.

Dean froze, as did everyone else. Oh shit, was Kevin about to lose it, and go all vengeful spirit on Gadreel's ass? As powerful as an angry spirit could be, there was no way he'd win that fight. Were they about to see him killed by this angel, a second time?

Gadreel lifted a placating hand toward Kevin, 'Please, accept my deepest apologies for my actions. I made a grave mistake in following Metatron. I should never have obeyed commands that felt so very wrong.'

Castiel took a step forward, drawing Kevin's attention. 'I have done no better, trusting Metatron when I shouldn't, and killing for him. I am deeply sorrowed by the pain I have caused, so many have died due to my actions, my poor judgment. I do not condone what Gadreel has done, but I can understand why he did it. Can you find it in your heart to forgive him?' Castiel looked around at the others, 'Can you?'

Gadreel immediately offered further apologies, 'Sam, I am sorry to have used you as I did. I know you've suffered terribly because of the actions I took while in your body. I'm sorry too, for calling you shame-filled and weak; I did not mean it. Truly, you are finest human I have encountered in my short time on Earth. I came to know your soul intimately, and it is beautiful beyond measure.'

Leaving Sam gape-mouthed, Gadreel turned to Dean. 'And I abused your trust horribly, breaking my word to you to heal and care for your brother. I was scared, and stupid, and once again trusted another angel over my own judgment. You treated me well while I lived here with you, and I came to know and like you. It hurt me to hurt you, and your brother. I should have turned to you when Metatron approached me, and I will always regret that I did not.'

Turning away from Dean's scowl, Gadreel finished with Castiel. 'Brother, please know that it was entirely my fault that you were turned away, when you came here for shelter. I forced Dean to push you away, threatening his brother's life if you did not go. Dean was miserable thereafter, his worry for you incessant. Never doubt that he loved you all along. I'm sorry for your suffering during that time, and for the actions I've taken against you on Metatron's behalf.'

The room was silent, and Gadreel's shoulders slumped. 'Allow me to give you what information I can about Metatron's operation and plans. Then, I will go.'

Dean could feel Castiel's disappointment. He knew Cas believed in second chances, even third and fourth chances, having been in need of them himself. But Dean had hated Gadreel more than almost anyone, and it was extremely difficult to let that go. Gadreel had hurt his family, and that was the worst thing you could do in Dean Winchester's book.

But he was no saint, and he'd needed forgiveness in plenty himself. Steeling himself, he told Gadreel, 'I've made some questionable choices too, man. I get it.' He ached, thinking of Tessa, 'I just killed a friend myself, one I might have helped instead. So, if Sam and Kevin are okay with giving you another shot, then I'm on board. And sorry, you know, for attacking you earlier. And for the massive beat-down, last time.' Well okay, almost sorry. Still, it was worth making the offer, just to feel the love and approval radiating from Cas.

Sam was looking at Dean, hugely surprised once more. This angel's actions had caused the deepest of rifts between them, one their relationship nearly hadn't survived. They still weren't back to a comfortable level with one another. But Dean was willing to forgive Gadreel? He said _sorry?_ Holy shit, what had Cas done to him? Was he _high?_

Sam shook it off, and turned to give his own answer to Gadreel. 'Ultimately it's up to Kevin, he's been the most wronged, suffered the most. For myself, I'm willing to work with you, and give you the benefit of the doubt. But your second chance must be earned, and trust is not something I'm sure I can ever give you.'

Gadreel nodded, 'That's honest, and all I can hope for. Thank you, Sam. And you, Dean.' He took a deep breath, and turned to face Kevin. 'How will you judge me?'

Kevin had lost his smitey look, but was still plenty disgruntled. 'You _owe_ me. I had a life, goddammit. Not a great one sometimes, but it was mine, and there should still have been plenty of it left. I should have been allowed to live it! You took it all from me, just on some asshole's say-so!'

'You are right, of course. I wish I could return your life to you, but that is beyond my power. Is there anything else I may do? You have only to ask.' He spread his arms, looking very earnest and somehow vulnerable.

Kevin frowned in thought, then his face cleared. 'Yes, there is something I want! I want Metatron's job.'

Confusion and consternation were written over everyone's faces, but they let Gadreel continue the conversation, 'You wish to be the new God? I don't see how that is possible.'

Kevin waved a hand in negation, 'No, no. His old job. I wanna be Scribe. Sure, God's not around anymore, so you don't need anyone to write down his Words, but you still need someone who can read and interpret the tablets, right? Well hey, who knows them better than I do? Plus, whoever ends up in charge upstairs will need to consult with the Scribe on a regular basis. I like the idea of knowing what's going on, of helping to put things back to rights. It's way better than just replaying the few good years of my life, in my own little Heaven, for the rest of time.'

'That is a noble goal, young Kevin. I would be happy to help you achieve it. Right now, I have no power to grant your desire, however.'

'Yeah, we gotta kick Metadouche out of office first, I get that. I'll do what I can to help. But when the dust settles, if we come out on top, I expect you to hold up your end.'

Gadreel squared his shoulders, drawing himself up proudly. 'That is a deal.'

Kevin shuddered, 'Gah, don't put it like that! I'm having Crowley flashbacks over here.'

That helped lighten the atmosphere, Dean was pleased to note. He clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention. 'Okay! So, we've got a war to win. Where do we stand? Gadreel, what can you tell us?'

'We will need to act fast, if we hope to catch Metatron before he returns to Heaven. I can take you to his headquarters, but we would need a way to get past those guarding him.'

'Metatron plans to return to Heaven?', Sam asked.

'He hadn't been, but given the change in circumstance, I believe he will wish to retreat to greater safety.'

'What change, your coming here?'

'No, Castiel breaking his spell. Oh, of course you would not be able to tell. Immediately after Castiel bonded with your brother, my wings began to heal. The process is already well advanced, I should be able to fly again within hours.'

Everyone started speaking at once, 'What?!', 'No friggen way!', 'How is this possible?', 'So that's what that was.'

Gadreel seemed surprised, 'None of you knew? Even you Castiel, did you not know what you had done? I assumed the return of your wings would have been sufficient sign.'

'The experience quite overwhelmed me, I did not have a change to think about what it might signify. I was not trying to undo the spell, I do not even know how it was done!'

Kevin hadn't been present for any of that, 'What did you do, Castiel?'

'I used up most of what remained of my stolen Grace, to temporarily free Dean of the Mark's influence. He'd wounded me though, and I did not have enough left to heal myself. Dean very generously offered to let me,' he made quote marks with his hands, '"power-up" by touching his soul. I refused, on the grounds that it was a very temporary solution. Dean then asked if there was a way I could remain in constant contact, that my Grace would never burn out. With his permission, I forged a permanent bond with him.'

Suddenly Kevin began to laugh. 'Oh, _oh!_ I get it. I see it now!'

'You wanna share with the rest of the class?', Dean asked, impatience making him sound exasperated.

Kevin was still chuckling, but he attempted to explain, 'That's why you were lip-locked with Cas when I got here! And about time, might I add. Castiel, you gave Dean some of your Grace at the same time, didn't you?'

'Yes, he needs it to keep the Mark of Cain subdued. If he were not a vessel strong enough to contain an archangel, that would not have been possible. But given that I can help him to control it, through the bond, he now has enough Grace to balance out the darkness he also carries.'

'You still don't get it, do you? Castiel, what do you call a human who also has Grace?'

'A Neph...', Cas stopped speaking mid-word, a look of astonishment on his face.

Sam picked up on it, speaking excitedly, 'A _Nephilim?_ Dean's a Nephilim now?'

 _Oh_ , Dean was thinking. _Guess that explains the wings._

Kevin was outright grinning at Dean, 'Yup! And Castiel here gave his heart to him, and I'm guessing Dean gave his back; just as Cupid would wish.'

'That's it, that's the three components of the spell!', Sam cried out. 'Cas' Grace, a Nephilim's heart, and Cupid's bow; what Cas did involved them all. Does this mean Heaven's Gates are open again?'

'One would presume,' Gadreel put in. 'Which means that Metatron's ability to control who may enter Heaven has been undone. This negates much of his power, but he still commands the majority of the Heavenly Host. He will have to readjust his plans. If we are to catch him off balance, it must be done quickly.'

'We still have no way of getting close to him, though.'

'Ah, I may be able to help with that,' Kevin offered, 'if you can figure a way around certainly ghostly limitations.'

'What do you mean?'

'The Veil is full of seriously pissed-off spirits who'd love to get a little payback. I, ah, may have taught a fair number of them an angel banishing spell I came across while searching for an angel suppression spell for Dean. It's harmless really, just sends angels back to Heaven, but it'll get them off your back for awhile. Bring enough of us along, and we can banish Metatron's army for you. You just need to find a way to unleash the spirits from the places or objects they're bound to. Oh, and do it before the reapers show up I guess, since they can make delivery now.'

'Oh yeah, this is starting to sound like a plan!', Dean enthused. 'Come on Cas, Gadzooks, one of you must have some idea how we can do that.' He almost snorted a laugh at the annoyed bitchface Gadreel turned in his direction. Damn, the guy could rival Sam!

Castiel was looking at him with concern, 'Actually, Dean, the Mark of Cain gives you the ability to summon and control ghosts. But you would need to hold the First Blade throughout, when I would prefer you never touch it again.'

'We get this job done, and I swear to you Cas, I never will. But we'll need it to take out Metatron.'

'No, Dean. We aren't going to kill Metatron.'

'Uh. We're not?'

'There has been far too much killing already. I cannot condone it.'

'But then, what do we do with him?'

'I believe Gadreel's old cell lacks an occupant.'

Huh. Dean hadn't known Gadreel could smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've already written waaay more than I meant to, so I'll just wrap it up here. I could write the final confrontation scene, but I've already pretty much described it. They hit Metatron's headquarters, and banish enough angels to get through to his office. As the ghosts were able to approach from all directions, none of the angels had been able to get in to warn him, so they are able to surprise him. Gadreel grabs him before he can flee, and before the threat of the First Blade, he surrenders the tablets and goes quietly off to angel jail, to think about what he's done. 
> 
> Reapers gradually ferry all the spirits stuck in the Veil up to Heaven, and the other angels return when their wings have healed enough to permit it. Castiel is back in their good graces for having reversed the spell keeping them from their home, as is Gadreel, for helping him defeat Metatron; especially once Kevin reveals the nature of the spell Metatron was using to control everyone. 
> 
> Castiel stays with his bondmate Dean, so by default, Gadreel is left in charge in Heaven. True to his word, he gives Kevin the Scribe job, accords him respect and heeds his counsel. Or so I imagine it would go...

**Author's Note:**

> Ehryn, I love discussing the show with you, and you are entirely responsible for inspiring this little flight of fancy. I hope you liked it. :)


End file.
